


Forgetful

by KateKintail



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Daisy Chain of Awesome, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 12:11:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateKintail/pseuds/KateKintail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape needs something from Neville.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgetful

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: JKR’s characters. I play for free and for fun.
> 
> Written for the Snape/Neville week of the Harry Potter Daisy Chain of Awesome

Snape came strolling into the greenhouse. He looked entirely out of place wearing black robes from head to toe, all buttons done up and robes billowing. “Where is my aconite, Longbottom?”   
  
Neville looked up from the pot he was working at. He had dirt beneath his fingernails and smudges on his cheek and neck. He wore a thick apron that had pockets for his gardening tools and a few extra vials. Out of one pocket he pulled a little pad and a self-inking quill. He flipped through the pages, shaking his head. “No. You definitely didn’t put in a request for aconite.”  
  
Snape waved his hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. I need some now.”   
  
Neville gently put down his pad. “Well, you can’t have any. If you didn’t put in a request, you can’t have it.”   
  
“All this paperwork and formality,” Snape sneered. “Just put that Mimbulus mimbletonia aside and get some aconite clippings for me.”  
  
“I can’t, Sir. The aconite isn’t ready.”   
  
Snape stared, mouthing but not speaking the words “isn’t ready.”  
  
Neville sighed and marched over to one of the far tables. Amongst some prickly-looking plants and one that reached out with a pair of leaves, feeling around for anything close, was a large patch of dirt. In it were more than a dozen tiny sprouts, the green just barely visible above the surface. “If I were to use magic to accelerate their growth, it would entirely remove all its magical properties. I’m afraid there is no course of action but to wait on them or to acquire you precious aconite through an alternative source. I cannot help you.” Neville turned, finding Snape nearly atop him, looking down at him menacingly. “If you had told me earlier of your need, there would have been sufficient time to grow more, but… it must have slipped your mind.”  
  
Snape moved closer, so they were nearly nose-to-nose. His eyes were dark, piercing. “I do not forget things.”  
  
“No,” Neville said, shaking his head. He stopped closer, pressing himself up against Snape’s chest. “No, I suppose you don’t. You don’t, for example, forget that this is my greenhouse and my shop. Nor do you forget how I have told you time and time again that—”  
  
And that was when Snape kissed him. It was actually just as much of an attack as a kiss. Having been cut off mid-sentence, caught unawares, Neville flailed and sputtered for a moment, but then settled into the fact that Snape would take control. It was Neville’s place, yes, but any attempt at Neville dictating anything would scare Severus away, which was a risk Neville was unwilling to take.   
  
So he let Snape strip him down, out of the apron, then out of the raggedy corduroys and plaid flannel. He let Snape stroke the ivy tattoo, which wound up one leg, ending at the inner thigh. He let Snape lick his neck, even though it tended to tickle. And he let Snape slip inside, because the man did so with such a graceful force that Neville was not only filled delicious pleasure but also surprised by the sensation each and every time.   
  
“Oh, Sir… yes,” Neville pleaded. “Yes, more.  _More…_ ”  
  
“There’s no need to call me that, Longbottom.” Snape gave another thrust inward, and Neville squealed with pleasure, practically bucking. It was only Snape’s hand on his cock, pinching tightly, that was keeping him from spilling his seed too soon. “We’re far from your school days. I am not your master.”  
  
“You… will always be… my master,” Neville told him, gazing up into his lover’s eyes. “And I your… your… oh… oh God!” Neville winced, trying hard to clear his mind, but being invaded mentally with image after image of sensual touch and orgasms. He could hold on no longer, and came brilliantly, coating Snape’s pale chest.   
  
Snape never came first. That wasn’t an issue of control, merely the fact that Snape was utterly incapable of coming until he saw Neville lose it completely. So that by the time Neville was finished, Snape had already begun. Snape came with a moan and, usually, a whimper or two.  
  
Afterwards, they lay together on the dirty greenhouse floor, surrounded by dirt and seedpods and leaves. It always took some time for Snape’s breathing to slow again, and his heart still raced every time Neville stroked his cheek.   
  
It was silent for quite some time before Snape spoke again, “I need more knotgrass.”  
  
Neville opened his eyes A smile played on his face..“Knotgrass? Really? That’s the first thing you can think to say?”  
  
Snape nodded. “I wanted to be sure to say it before I forgot.”  
  
“Like you ever forget anything.”


End file.
